


Winter Bird

by RaisedonRadio



Category: Ghost Hunt
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Ghost Hunt Prompt Challenge, Obscure Emotions, One Shot, Post-Series, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 14:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10855818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisedonRadio/pseuds/RaisedonRadio
Summary: She's tired waiting for the spring that's not going to come. When had this chill nested into her heart?





	Winter Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ghosthunt_challenge2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ghosthunt_challenge2) collection. 



> WC: 1352 / Post-Series
> 
> **For the Ghost Hunt Challenge 2: Obscure Emotions.**
> 
> The Prompt: mal de coucou:  
> “A phenomenon in which you have an active social life but very few close friends—people who you can trust, who you can be yourself with, who can help flush out the weird psychological toxins that tend to accumulate over time—which is a form of acute social malnutrition in which even if you devour an entire buffet of chitchat, you’ll still feel pangs of hunger.”

The wind ripped at Masako’s shawl again and she shuddered, pulling it tight around her. Masako had not brought a coat because it had been warmer that morning. She paused on the edge of an intersection and waited for the light to change. She hated when the days became shorter, and dark fell quicker. The bus stop was just on the other side of the street. She hoped she wasn’t going to freeze before then.

As she stood, perched on the curb, a deeper chill seeped in through the soles of her feet. There had been a nasty accident there, not too long ago. The spirits had not lingered but the moment of the crash had been burned into the location. Masako closed her eyes and counted to five, pushing the images of a scene she had not physically witnessed out of her mind.

A hand touched her shoulder and Masako flinched, eyes snapping open. Her first thought was she had drifted into the road, but she was still in the same spot. The light had changed and the crosswalk was clear. That was all the man was alerting her to. His eyes were kind, but she still felt repulsed by the contact. She murmured a thank you and kept her head down by focusing her attention on the boots she wore. They were low cut rain boots, not quite her size. She already felt blisters forming.

Masako made it safely across the road, despite the memories of those who had not. She felt dragged down by the visions, like a child tugging at her clothes. _Notice me, notice me._ She was one of the few who could.

At the bus stop she stood under the awning, stamping her feet despite the ache in them. She didn’t trust to sit down; she was afraid someone might find her in the same place next spring – if it ever came.

The one day Masako didn’t have a spare outfit with her, was the day that her aunt Kimiko forgot to pick her up from the TV station. The shawl she had over her kimono did little to protect against the elements. One of the office girls had borrowed Masako the boots, otherwise she would have been stuck wearing her traditional sandals. Masako didn’t dare call her parents, and she didn’t trust anyone at the station to hitch a ride with, even to the closest bus stop. The fact was, this was not the first time Kimiko had done this to her, and Masako couldn’t believe she had still trusted the older woman’s words. Her angry thoughts should have warmed her up, making her hot and bothered in her irritation. It worked for others, didn’t it? But all she felt was colder.

As the time of arrival for the bus drew closer, people started to crowd around her. Masako appreciated the windbreak they created. People chatted about the weather, making grand statements on how autumn was definitely going to bow out early this year. People nodded and agreed, and Masako joined in. Talking about the weather was easy, she had learned at a young age. It never offered an opening into deeper topics.

“Are you Masako Hara?”

The girl who had asked was standing next to Masako. She was tall with her hair bleached at the tips. She was flanked by two more girls. They all looked the same age as Masako. She smiled as brightly as her frozen face allowed and nodded. The group was dressed in bold outfits and heavy makeup. They looked to be going out for the evening, while Masako was going home. Masako’s makeup was simple and doll-like, and she suddenly felt plain, a duckling among swans. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to at all. She wondered what a night on the town was like with them.

The first girl said, “We love watching your show!”

The other girls nodded vigorously, like the bobble-head Kimiko kept on her car’s dashboard. Masako didn’t even know who the doll was supposed to be, but she did know it creeped her out.

“Thank you,” Masako said, uncertain what else to say.

“What’s it like being famous?” another girl asked. This one was shorter, her dark hair cropped.

“It’s a lot of work,” Masako said. “But I enjoy meeting fans like this, in unlikely places.”

“You must have lots of famous friends,” the first girl said.

“Do you always have to wear a kimono?” the short-haired girl asked, eyeing Masako’s attire. Masako resisted the urge to pull the shawl tighter to cover her outfit.

“Do you go to lots of parties?” the third girl, who had been quiet up until now, asked.

“No, I don’t,” Masako said. She had meant to answer the kimono question, but she realized she had answered all three without meaning to. There was a sharpness to her tone she had not intended, and it was a little too late, judging by the girls’ wary expressions. Masako put on a well practiced pout and said, “Such is the life of a young celebrity. I don’t have very much fun at all. How about you girls?”

Their faces brightened. They all started talking at once about who was going out and who had just been dumped, and the parties they had snuck out to in the past few weeks. Masako craved the conversation. For a moment, she could imagine what it would be like if she was part of the in crowd, instead of sticking out like…well, a girl in a kimono.

The girls sighed in disappointment as the bus pulled up alongside them. Masako boarded before them, and sat towards the front. She watched the girls as they went past her, chatting amongst themselves in what sounded like entirely new topics as they went to the back of the bus. Masako had, for some reason, expected them to sit next to her. They had not even asked for her autograph.

Masako huddled in her shawl and attempted to watch the night scenery pass by, but her reflection in the bus window kept catching her attention. The expression was forlorn, and she didn’t like it. She looked down at her hands instead.

The chill was back, trying to ice over the emptiness inside her. She was never sated by chitchat, the craving for interaction never fulfilled. She was above idle gossip; she was a TV star. She flew above them all. So why did she feel beneath them more often than not?

In those moments she would think about that group of people who had never made her feel beneath them. Sure, there had been quarrels based on silly, selfish reasons – Masako knew she was quick to engage in arguments that started with status, skill…and potential life partners. But when Mai had been mad at her, she had made sure Masako knew so, instead of talking behind her back. Ayako always had the attitude that only she could pick on them, otherwise she enveloped them in a protective presence that Masako never felt from Kimiko. Taka and Chiaki had always treated her kindly – maybe a little awestruck, but they never put her on a pedestal, never confined her to a cage.

She missed them. She had not meant to fall out of touch.

The bus stopped, and Masako automatically got off.

Her house was dark; her parents would already be asleep. They had early schedules that often collided with hers.

She quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside. Next to the phone in the kitchen was a handwritten note – it looked like her mother’s writing. _Kimiko says she mixed up your schedule, heard you were going to take a bus home. She apologizes and will see you tomorrow._

Her shoulders had sagged without her realizing it. It would have been nice if someone had stayed up to make sure she arrived safely. Masako crunched up the note and tossed it in the trash. She dashed away the tears threatening to spill over, and stifled the sob in her chest.

It was going to be another long and lonely night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tried for the optional Hard Mode ~ did I collect any points? ;)


End file.
